


Voidwalker's Scars

by VoidSuma



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Attempted Genocide?, Biffa is kinda flirty but you can read it as friendly too, Generik is a stressed dad, I'm just here to make Xisuma suffer lol, I'm sorry I've never written these two before, Mentions of War & Death, Scars, Self-Doubt, Voidwalker Lore, Xisuma is a Voidwalker, suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:33:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27432073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidSuma/pseuds/VoidSuma
Summary: What gave X all those scars?
Relationships: if you squint
Comments: 15
Kudos: 85





	Voidwalker's Scars

Xisuma was always one to love his hermits. No one took him for anything but a kind soul, polite and very in touch with mobs.

If only they knew.

Coming of age for a voidwalker was usually something very celebrated. He had learned how to do everything their kind could, even if it wasn't mastered yet. However, this was during a time of war.

He didn't get that celebration, he was on the frontline. Mobs verses players. Voidwalkers weren't the same as endermen though. Those who fought them got dissolved into dust, and The Endless End wasn't confirmed if you could respawn after dying there.

Xisuma got most his scars this way. Arrows launched from a distance, suprise sword swings. He still wasn't used to his ablities. Messily dissolving and moving on instinct when a player got too close. He would plead with them, that would hurt the most. They'd never stop attacking and he'd always have to watch another player vanish from his touch.

Xisuma has made a lot of enemies from that war. A lot of his people also died.

The end was caused by an admin that entered the fight and it was a losing battle from there.

Before the war was over, he had began working on a suit. During the times when the players would leave he found himself going through their items for materials to use. If he survived, he desperately wanted to visit the Overworld without the risk of harming the life like he had here. He makes another suit, he can't exactly remember for who but it felt right.

His memory had always been a little hazy after all that fighting.

He fell into the first world he saw, he watched players do that, running toward their little pocket that extended back into their own worlds. Although, for Xisuma, he picked at random.

Xisuma wasn't suprise when he landed into The End. Where else would they get to the Endless End? He wasn't ready to have been followed though.

Xisuma could be a bit derpy sometimes, like forgetting to dissolve before a diamond axe cut across his back. However, he couldn't believe he assumed a player not to notice him slip through a portal, even through his suit.

He turned, recalling what they looked like was always hard, his mind in a panic, their insults didn't register. 

He spoke Galatic most his life, the language of the End. He doesn't know how many years he fought but he remembers picking up on some english. 

He remembers the words whispered to him by the woman who cut an X across the bridge of his nose. The ones spat at by the man who slashed his eye. The teenager that cut the wings he summoned off his back. They were all dead now.

For whatever reason, Xisuma never remembered what this small group had yelled at him, he was already running. He was easily light on his feet, afterall, he spent most his youth running along the endstone and climbing the chorus fruit steams.

As soon as TNT was being launched, he couldn't remember a thing. He could only remember his eyes opening behind his broken helmet, the warning blinking at the top. The air filter was broke but it didn't matter too much, being his surroundings. He could definitely feel the way his armor dented into his skin, the ruby blood staining the green he had painted it with.

He regrets the decision of wearing the limiting armor, but he just didn't want to fight anymore. He leaned into the endstone, despite it's hardness, it was so comforting to look at, even through the spider web cracks that broke his air seal. The fresh void air was calming.

His peace was disturbed by the sounds of players curiously mining and placing blocks near by. He could only lay there and pray he'd go unnoticed, pray it wasn't the players that had followed him through.

He'd never felt so tired before. The face that popped up was an old man's. His expression didn't show anger, fear nor hatred, which was a good sign at least. Instead it was, concern, maybe? Xisuma had grown very good at recognizing most player expressions, usually negative ones.

The words sounded distant, despite knowing the man was right there. This was it for Xisuma. He'd be taken and killed. Maybe sold? He heard players talk about the value a loyal voidwalker could provide to a player. 

He flinched very harshly when he suddenly felt a touch. It shocked both him and the man over him, who looked at him with sympathy.

He saw the man talk and while he couldn't hear him he tried reading his lips, a trait he didn't remember when he developed.

He could make out the syllables, he wasn't sure what all of the words meant with all this brain fog but he could recognize 'lift' 'you', 'to' and 'safety'. There was definitely more explanation but without the use of his ears he couldn't pick up on anymore.

He let his eyes fall shut, maybe he could just ignore the man and he'd leave him be. Either way, in his current state it wasn't like he could stop anything he'd do. He flinched again after the second slight touch but his eye lids felt heavier and heavier. He curled into himself as his mind met blackness.

Hopefully, the old man would leave him be. What a wish that was.

When Xisuma woke up, he couldn't breathe. At all. Each breath was so heavy and thick he could only gag and desperately try to cough it out. His ears were ringing and his tears dribbled down his face. Xisuma knew some voidwalkers could respawn, a trait passed through ancestors.

He remembers once, an elder walker had told him he possessed that ability but he himself has never experienced it. He couldn't feel anything but terror.

He couldn't have been here for long, judging by the fact he was still alive but he couldn't make out where he was. It felt like he was on a bed and when his wide eyes met with the same old man he saw in the End, he could only gesture to his throat before he felt the pain of suffocation throb across his body. He cried, curling into a ball as small as possible while the old man's worried voice chattered above himself.

He poofed suddenly, black smoke scattering from where he was and suddenly, he was in the void. Not like the Endless End nor the void between worlds, this was his void. A personal space that voidwalkers who respawned had outside of their bodily void. It was a break from the pain but he felt his body reconstructing as he floated.

It hurt almost as bad at the suffocation, the way his void wrapped around his injuries and rewrote his body. He wondered if dying from a wound would add to his scars.

He didn't have any sense of time for how long he was gone but when he appeared back on his bed, he made sure to hold his breath. he had practiced the words to say. 

The old man was pacing the room and Xisuma was glad to have his attention as soon as he appeared again.

"H..helmet, I need.. the helmet to.." Xisuma couldn't finish, he fell to his knees, no longer able to get any void air out of his lung. He already knew he hated suffocating probably the most of all the ways he could die. He watched the old man's realization, how he cursed before he was quickly leaving the room Xisuma was in.

There was no way his helmet would be in condition to help him even if the old man was quick enough.

Xisuma could only lay on the floor as the pain started throbbing again. He poofed before the old man got back.

The next time he returned from the void he didn't get the chance to cough before the helmet was shoved on his head. 

He blinked a moment before realizing his lungs weren't burning. He also began to notice how his visor was no longer cracked but it was tinted a lavender color. Xisuma can't remember a time he's ever felt more weak. There was another man in the room with the old man, he had magenta armor and he was holding what Xisuma recognized as his green armor. 

He was gonna live. He felt a wave of tears leave him and before he realized he was thanking them over and over again in his home language. However, he trailed off when he realized their confusion.

"Apologies.. thank you.." he whispered in his hoarse voice, the syllables a bit deeper than Galatic. They talked but with the ringing in his ears he couldn't understand yet.

"Need the gloves.. and armor.. please.." He mumbled, the black turtle neck and leggings did well to cover his scars and some void bits but his black dusted hands were on display and he was terrified of being turned on so soon.

He opened one purple eye at them and the magenta man was already carefully lifting him. Suddenly, words were a little clearer.

"Oh my goodness me has Generik here not been taking care of you? Jeez, he could sure learn a lesson in common sense, huh?"

"How was I to know he couldn't breathe? I didn't even get a chance to treat his wounds either.." the older man seemed to have been stressed about him despite the banter. It calmed him a bit.

Xisuma almost jumped when his turtle neck was suddenly yanked up, the magenta man carefully looking over his stomach for what he assumed was injuries.

"Must've been something rough to knock a fella like this outta commission." He heard the man chuckle.

"Easy, Biffa. You're going to make him bolt out that door and then the hermits are gonna freak." The man, Generik?, replied.

Biffa just laughed again, letting Xisuma's shirt go.

"Is the black stuff normal or do we gotta worry about some sort of disease you got?" Biffa raised a brow at the new guy.

Xisuma was flustered a moment. "I- uh- no no! This is just, how I am.. I..I would like my gloves, please." Xisuma was quick to pull his sleeves over his hands as much as he could before pulling them protectively toward his chest. He was glad Biffa didn't comment much more while he handed the gloves over.

"You don't need to worry too much. Uh- our server, Hermitcraft, is welcome to all sorts of hybrids and stuff, we know other servers don't tend to be as welcoming." Generik offered him carefully.

Except, he wasn't a hybrid. He was a creature that could live in the server's very being. He let a shaky sigh. How he hasn't been found out yet is amazing but they assumed he either wasn't human, or mob hybrid, either would work.

He just nodded before Biffa offered him the armor. Nice to see it was in much better shape, being the way it was detented back in the End.

It was awkward, slowly and carefully making sure the armor covered every inch if himself that the gloves did not. The boots were the last thing he pulled on and when he rose to stand his knees disagreed.

Collasping into Biffa was humiliating, the cheek of a man he was just laughed as he patted Xisuma's back. 

"Careful there, falling for someone you just met isn't very realistic." Biffa teased and despite Xisuma's whole body aching, he couldn't stop the breathy half laugh from leaving him, which pleased the magenta man greatly.

Biffa slowly maneuvered Xisuma back toward the bed and he couldn't find himself complaining when he fell into the sheets again. Most people would find sleeping in armor uncomfortable and clunky, but with all the vulnerability he's gone through today, the comfort of protecting this world from himself, was blissful.

Biffa was happy to show him around, introduce him to the 'hermits' as they called themselves. According to Generik he was one of them too now. Still, Xisuma couldn't help feel like they all knew, like they could see the blood on his hands, or in this case, void.

Xisuma tried to put it aside as he marveled the Overworld. It was beautiful but he couldn't find it in himself to freak out over the grass and the flowers, it'd make him look like a weirdo.

Despite this Biffa picked up on his fascination. After all the introductions(which tended to be awkward being Xisuma towered over the smaller hermits even though he was just barely shorter than Biffa), he was brought to a little oasis.

He felt homesick suddenly, the deep dark water reminding him of the blacknes of the End, the sand made him think of endstone but the grass? The grass made him think of peace. He couldn't contain his emotions when he slowly dragged his hand over the soft blades and they didn't wither and die.

Slient tears dribbled across his purple spattered face from under his helmet. Biffa was settled next to him, carefully rubbing his shoulder and pulling him close. 

"There there, things will get better, you have a family now, promise that won't change." Biffa comforted him, like he had gone through something similar.

While voidwalkers definitely did not belong in the Overworld, maybe Xisuma would belong in Hermitcraft.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again lol  
> just me, Void  
> with another rant fic that doesn't make sense to my other backstory rant fic  
> i just wanted to write more sad things but i sprinkled a bit of fluff in, as a treat  
> please scream feedback at me i desperately need it  
> also got a big suprise fic coming soon (i hope)


End file.
